Not for Me
by B-A-MONSTER
Summary: A fan fiction, short story of Porphyria's lover, a poem by Robert Browning. I wrote about what happened after. It may be short but it's a little deep. Couldn't choose which to rate so T b/c the killing already passed in my written part but the poem shows it in chapter 1. Picture of early morning in Dublin-
1. Prophria's Lover

**Porphyria's Lover a poem by Robert Browning**

The rain set early in tonight,

The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

And did its worst to vex the lake:

I listened with heart fit to break.

When glided in Porphyria; straight

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

Which done, she rose, and from her form

Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

And laid her soiled gloves by, untied

Her hat and let the damp hair fall,

And, last, she sat down by my side

And called me. When no voice replied,

She put my arm about her waist,

And made her smooth white shoulder bare,

And all her yellow hair displaced,

And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,

Murmuring how she loved me-she

Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,

To set its struggling passion free

From pride, and vainer ties dissever,

And give herself to me forever.

But passion sometimes would prevail,

Nor could tonight's gay feast restrain

A sudden thought of one so pale

For love of her, and all in vain:

So, she was come through wind and rain.

Be sure I looked up at her eyes

Happy and proud; at last I knew

Porphyria worshiped me: surprise

Made my heart swell, and still it grew

While I debated what to do.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

Perfectly pure and good: I found

A thing to do, and all her hair

In one long yellow string I wound

Three times her little throat around,

And strangled her. No pain felt she;

I am quite sure she felt no pain.

As a shut bud that holds a bee,

I warily oped her lids: again

Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress

About her neck; her cheek once more

Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:

I propped her head up as before

Only, this time my shoulder bore

Her head, which droops upon it still:

The smiling rosy little head,

So glad it has its utmost will,

That all it scorned at once is fled,

And I, its love, am gained instead!

Porphyria's love: she guessed not how

Her darling one wish would be heard.

And thus we sit together now,

And all night long we have not stirred,

And yet God has not said a word!


	2. Not For Me

**Not for Me**

**By B. A. Monster**

**My ending to the poem "****Porphyria's Lover****" by Robert Browning (1812-1889)**

**In short story form.**

**Did it for an English class September 29, 2011 at 5:30pm**

I sat there by the fire allowing my beloved's blonde head lay upon my shoulder. She was so beautiful, so mine. I then conquered up my memories of how we met.

_Her blonde, sunshine curly hair flew past me as she rushed down the town's main street. Those curls are what made me stop and glance back at her for a second. They smelled of __flowers __and __honey dew__, when she pasted me. It reminded me of my childhood and of my first love. Oh how long ago that felt. Staring longingly at her back I shook my head slowly side to side. She was not for me._

Smoothly I rubbed her hair back from her face; she smelled the same as when I first saw her. In the sun light she looked to pretty. She was my wonderful, **terrible** lover.

_She was totally put out of my mind until we bumped into each other again a few weeks later. Looking up into my eyes after I had just picked up her glove that she was trying to pull on before she hit me, she gasped then gaped in awe of me in._

_It wasn't every day she meet one of my kind. The thing that shocked me the most was that she could see what I looked like; even through my fake attire I wore it when I wondered outside within the community._

_ "You're ….Gorgeous!" were her first words. They flowed like water melting from an ice cube. Smooth and ending with perfect clarity. When I handed her her glove back that's when I noticed the ring on her finger. She was __**definitely**__ not for me._

Running my fingers through my lover's hair, I gently kissed her temple. Who would have thought that this fragile creature was even remotely dangerous? Moving to her face I stared at her unblinking eyes, cupping that heart shaped treasure that was her face, I touched my lips to hers. So light, so angelic.

_I tried so hard to ignore the pretty haired, __**married woman**__ but a man could only __last__ so long with temptation following him everywhere. And before he even knows it he falls. Within no time I had her in my bed. Oh those sweet times…_

_ That was until she become aware of too many things._

_Knowing that you only had a matter of time before you're betrayed, leaves you little option to be slow and improbable. Keeping secrets were easy but erasing them all together was complicated._

As I stared at my lifeless Porphyria and I sighed.

"If only you had left things as they were." I told her body. Picking up my old love, bridle style, I tossed her into the large stone fireplace. Her lips were still moist until the fire hit them. Her hair was golden until the fire scolded the locks away. I stared at her eyes until there was nothing but ash.

I cleaned up the cabin and disposed of her remains in the river, out back, then headed back to town.

The rain fell just a steadily as when she had came rushing in, only moments before. I felt refreshed as I cooled down from the flames of my Porphyria.

Over the next few days I still felt her presence and heard her voice.

People were searching for her.

I faked ignorance.

They asked for witnesses. No one came forward.

That's how it was with humans; they only came up when it involved them or if their fear or bravado was at stake.

I was at my limit, I couldn't stand it! Everything reminded me of her. So I left her town and moved to the city. After being there a couple of weeks I decided to drown my sorrows in liquor at a nearby bar.

As I walked through the door to a Tavern, I spotted a young lady walking out. Her hair was a short curly brown and she smelled of lilacs and berries. Staring for a minute, I then shook my head, thinking of my lost Porphyria. Speaking the words I was thinking out loud.

"She's not for me." I warned myself. "She's not for me."


End file.
